


some rules are made to be broken

by jokuto



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, and im going to hell, suna is a brat, thats all - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:35:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29395611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jokuto/pseuds/jokuto
Summary: Osamu Miya has always spoiled his lover, Suna Rintarou, and perhaps thats ruined the latter a little because when one rule is enforced, he makes it his lifes goal to break it.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou, Osasuna - Relationship, sunaosa
Comments: 4
Kudos: 118
Collections: SunaOsa Valentine's Exchange





	some rules are made to be broken

Miya Rintarou and Miya Osamu had always been a laidback couple. They ate in often, and spent their afternoons cuddled together with little need for pointless conversation in their comfortable silence.

Being highschool sweethearts, they knew each other like the back of their hands and there was this easy warmth in everything they did. Many even saw them as the perfect couple, considering they never really fought, and shared a lot of the same opinions.

They agreed on everything, everything except one rule that had been in place ever since Osamu opened up his restaurant, Onigiri Miya.

No sex in his kitchen, _ **EVER**_.

Osamu's rule was simple, and the only thing he ever asked of Rintarou, really, but something about the forbidden aspect of it all lit a spark in Suna, making him long to break this one rule more than he'd ever wanted to break anything in his life.

It started out slow, this desire to see what it would take to convince Osamu to break this rule. There were a few late nights that he helped Osamu close up, intentionally pulling his, then, boyfriend in for a heated makeout session. He could feel the effect he was having on Osamu, and yet, every time Rintarou's slender fingers began to undo the buttons of his lovers shirt, or palm the bulge pressing against him, Osamu would pull away.

"Lets head home, baby, I'll finish cleanin in the mornin."

"We could just," Rintarou would start to say, but Osamu always fixed him with a stern gaze before tugging him out of the kitchen.

It was clear to him that Osamu would not be an easy person to crack. He took his one rule a little too seriously, but Rintarou wasn't giving up yet.

Over the next few years, he tried every seduction tactic that he could think of.

  
He held out on Osamu for months, much to his own displeasure, and then dropped to his knees in the kitchen of Onigiri Miya and begged for Osamu to fuck his mouth. He could see how close Osamu was to giving in, the dark desire swirling in grey eyes, his hand entangled in Rintarou's dark brown hair, but the encounter ended with Rintarou getting his back blown out in the backseat of their car ten minutes later - which was fun, but not the desired outcome.

  
Another time, he trapped Osamu to the counter between his arms, pulled Osamu's thumb to his mouth, and sucked the whip cream off of it with slow intent, his yellow eyes locked on Osamu, while Osamu watched Rintarou's mouth. He stepped back, his red tongue darting across his lips, his expression seductive, but the chef simply flushed, covered his cheeks, and mumbled a weak reprimand before returning to baking.

  
Rintarou even tried being more aggressive and demanding, which was a trait he didn't often have. He was too laidback to usually make the first move, and he never really had to because Osamu spoiled him rotten. All he had to do was reach out for Osamu, ask for anything, and he was never told no, until now. He'd been told no on multiple occasions in his attempt to seduce Osamu in his restaurant kitchen, and Rintarou didn't like it, so his determination sparked an initiative in him.

He knew he hadn't caught Osamu off guard when he came up behind him, kissing his neck leisurely. They were affectionate people, after all. He waits until he feels Osamu lean into the touch before his hands slip around Osamu's hips, holding him back against his chest. Osamu still seems completely unaware of what is happening, like putty in Rintarou's hands. He presses his lips against his lovers ear, his breath fanning out against his skin, and the faint breathy moan he receives sings praises to Rintarou where he knows Osamu will bite his tongue.

When Rintarou pushes him forward, bending Osamu over the counter, the only fight he receives is a low warning of, "Rin," but then he presses back against the taller man and it loses its fight.

"I want you like this, 'Samu." He bites Osamu's ear, and grinds against him, receiving another low moan, but just as Rintarou thinks he's won, Osamu ducks out of his grip in a surprising move.

"Then come and get me." Rintarou watches as Osamu escapes the kitchen, and he knows he's lost again, but still, he chases after him to bend him over the next best object - which happens to be a couch. He may have lost out on breaking the rule, but Rintarou still considered it a win.

These habits continued for three years, Osamu being a ridiculously stubborn man. At some point, he figured out his, now, husbands ploy, and usually tried to take away the temptation by rarely getting caught alone with him in the restaurant. This worked somewhat, but Rintarou's determination was no small thing. An attempt to break a rule that Osamu thought would only last a few weeks, carried on for years, but eventually, even his strong will would sway. He just never expected the way it would happen.

The day that everything changed was a regular Thursday afternoon, one that Osamu didn't think any differently of. It was past eleven, if the ticking clock on the wall was any accurate reference. He'd sent the waiters under his hire home early, deciding to give them some well deserved time off and close up on his own. Having texted his husband of his plans, informing him he'd be home a bit later than usual, he set his phone down and went to work.

Time passed by fairly quickly, the music he'd turned on playing from his phone's speakers while he put away clean dishes. He was so lost in his thoughts, and the music, that it took him a few minutes to hear the knocking at the glass front door, but eventually he glanced from the kitchen at the sound. The idea of ignoring the person, who clearly was too idiotic to read the glowing closed sign above the door, crossed his mind, but he thought better of it. Maybe it was an emergency.

Tossing his black apron off the top of his head, he approached the door, pointing up to the sign, but the closer he got, the more the dull red hue illuminated the figure, and recognition set in.

"Rin?" he mouthed, before turning the lock and opening the door to the dark brunette, clad in a ridiculously long trenchcoat. Had he had a photoshoot that day?

The bell above the door rang as he pushed it open, ushering his husband in from the, admittedly, cold weather.

"Why the hell are ya here at this hour? I was just about to head home."

The confusion was clear on Osamu's face, but Rintarou seemed nothing but peaceful, although perhaps a little chilled, his cheeks being a rosy pink.

"I wanted to come see you." Rintarou didn't even seem to be trying to come up with an excuse that wouldn't baffle his husband, and instead moved past him in the direction of the kitchen. "I think I might have left something here the other day, babe."

The tall brunette disappeared around the corner, leaving Osamu trailing behind him like a lost puppy. The chef was racking his brain for what on earth his husband could have left that he'd only now remembered.

"I could have brought it home...?" The questioning tone was met with a low chuckle from Rintarou, a sound that made Osamu's senses begin to heighten. Something was definitely up.

The kitchen door swung open as Rintarou pushed it, and Osamu followed through, his lips parted to continue his questioning, but he was cut off by the sight before him.

Rintarou looked around, his hands messing with something on the front of his jacket that Osamu couldn't quite see. It would quickly become clear that he was unbuttoning the jackets large black buttons when Rintarou turned towards him, and let the fabric fall to the floor.

"But what would the fun be in that?"

The temperature in the room, along with his husbands tone, seemed to have rapidly dropped as Rintarou's outfit was revealed. Dull grey hues slowly swept up and down the tall brunette, taking in the black, see through mesh top, the way he could see every indent of muscles along Rintarou's abdomen; and then pushing further down, to a sight that made his face flush crimson.

Miya Rintarou was wearing a mini skirt.

The knot in Osamu's throat was making it difficult to speak, so he gulped. His words still failed him.

"R-rin, that's...why-"

Rintarou, who had been, ever so slowly, moving closer to the chef, had a sultry smooth smile on his lips. He reached out, taking Osamu's hands in his and placing them on his slender hips, before sliding his own up muscular arms and wrapping them around the back of Osamu's neck.

"You're so red, baby." Rintarou tilted his head, brushing his lips across Osamu's before leaning around the side of his face, "Do you like what you see?" he questioned, his warm breath fanning out across his ear.

The answer was yes, a hundred times yes. He liked what he saw, he liked how it looked, he liked the confidence Rintarou had in the outfit, and the way the skirt revealed his muscular thighs in a way that had to be abused.

"Wait-" The realization of Rintarou's plan seems to hit him just as his hands start sliding lower, seemingly against his will. Rintarou acts fast. He leans forward, slotting their hips together and pushing Osamu back against the counter. Then, he moves his hands down to Osamu's once more, before pushing them lower until they are resting against his ass, his skirt riding up just a little.

"If we leave, the skirt goes away."

It was a threat, there wasn't any other way to put it. His husband was a deviant, and cruel. Years of this taunting game had made him so, but this was by far the worst. Osamu didn't want to give in so easy, he really didn't. He was sure he'd get this opportunity again someday. Someday...

Then again, Rintarou was stubborn.

"But," the brunettes sultry voice purrs out, his lips brushing along Osamu's jawline in a mind numbing way. "-if we stay, you can bend me over the counter and have your way with me in this, tight, little skirt, as _many_ times as you want."

Osamu was a strong man, he truly was. He was strong willed, and determined, and he'd been winning this game for years.

He digs his hands into the skin of Rintarou's ass, coming to the realization that he wasn't wearing anything underneath the skirt.

Osamu was strong, but for Rintarou he was weak.

There was no warning before he tilted his head, slamming their lips together in a way that made Rintarou gasp. He pushed the skirt higher up, revealing his husbands bare ass completely. The way he dug his fingers into soft skin, and tugged in a rough manner, spreading Rintarou's cheeks made the brunette moan into their ragged kiss. Osamu had never felt so desperate to see the view for himself.

Pots rattled in their racks above them when he switched their positions. He kissed him once more before grabbing Rintarou by the hips and spinning him around.

"Bit desperate, huh?" Rintarou teased out from a position he had no right looking so good in. His hands were pressed flat against the counter, his back arched with the way he was positioned. He had his head turned, attempting to watch what Osamu would do first.

"Shut it, its yer own fault," he mumbles out, pushing the skirt up completely so it hung loosely around Rintarou's hips. The pale skin already had pink marks where Osamu's hands had roamed, which was a sight he rather enjoyed.

"Have I been holding out on ya too much, Samu? Are you a bit- _aah_!"

Osamu cut him off by spreading his cheeks and dragging his tongue across Rintarou's entrance without warning.

Although the sight before him was beautiful, Osamu's eyes were cast upwards. He watched the way the muscles in Rintarou's shoulders tensed and flexed beneath the mesh shirt. Osamu swirled his tongue around the entrance, then drug it up the middle slowly, repeating this process until he had Rintarou shaking.

No one knew his body like Osamu did.

Despite his desperation, Osamu still had patience. He continued his pattern until Rintarou was whimpering, his body relaxing as it adjusted to the abnormal feeling, and just when Rintarou would usually start pleading for more, Osamu shoved his tongue past the rim, hard.

Rintarou yelped, and then it bled into a moan as he leaned further against the counter, now falling to his elbows so he had more leverage to push back against his lover. It started slow, Osamu pushing into the tight heat with force at first, but the more repetitive he was, the more Rintarou relaxed. And the more he relaxed, the more Osamu thrusted in and out, using his grip on Rintarou's ass to pull him back against his face, over and over.

He could have continued like this until Rintarou made a mess of himself all over his stainless steel counters, but Osamu wasn't feeling so selfless. If he was going to break his one rule, the only thing he'd ever told Rintarou no on, then he was going to do it properly.

When Osamu pulled back, Rintarou arched into the air and groaned in complaint. It was enough desperation to make Osamu chuckle.

"Bit desperate, huh?" He repeats his husbands words before sucking two fingers between his lips.

It wasn't until Rintarou moaned that he realized those slender yellow eyes were watching him. Ever a tease, Osamu kept the eye contact, pushing his fingers to the back of his throat and dragging his lips back up them slowly. He wasn't usually so aggressive and direct sexually, but the mini skirt really did things to him.

He pulled his lips back with a familiar popping sound that made Rintarou breathe in sharp, before Osamu refocused his gaze. If Rintarou was expecting more immediately, he was sorely mistaken. Instead, Osamu resumed his pattern from before, kissing, biting, and thrusting until Rintarou was pleading for more, for relief, for anything, and only then did Osamu decide he was ready.

He moved his hand to Rintarou's entrance, pressing enough to make him quiver, but not enough to break through. He repeated this, smiling when Rintarou bucked back against him, only for Osamu to remove his hand. He could be torturous when he wanted to be, and he definitely wanted to be after the stunt Rintarou pulled to get him in this position.

"What do ya want?" he questioned, his fingers encircling where Rintarou wanted him most, but not giving it to him. When no response came aside from choked moans, Osamu leaned forward and nipped at Rintarou's left cheek enough to make him yelp.

"Tell me or yer not getting a damn thing."

Osamu swore he heard Rintarou mutter "so cruel" under his breath, but it was drowned by the soft, "For fucks sake just fuck me, Osamu, please. Your fingers, your cock, I don't care, just _fuck me_ ," followed by a string of pleads and curses. He always had such a filthy mouth when he grew desperate.

And Osamu could never deny him.

As the first finger pressed passed the heat of the tight rim, Osamu watched the tension stretch up the muscles in Rintarou's back until his head tossed back, a throaty moan falling from his parted lips. The sound went straight to Osamu's cock, which was making his pants uncomfortable tight at this point.

He would deal with that later, he was too busy spreading his husband open to think about himself right then.

The slow pressure, in and out, in and out, swirling, curling, hitting just the right spot, Osamu was too good at it. He had Rintarou weak in the knees, and he could tell by the way that he was fully bent over the counter now, supporting himself on the stainless steel. No one knew Rintarou's body better than Osamu, he studied him inside and out, and he was meticulous in his work.

Osamu worked in another finger, and the middle blocker rocked back into the touch, mewling at the tight but welcome sensation. Pushing his luck, Osamu swiped his warm tongue along the top of Rintarou's hole while simultaneously thrusting his fingers inside.

" _SHIT_ -" The word tumbled from the brunette with urgency, and Osamu felt the reaction in the way Rintarou tensed around his fingers.

Then it hit him. Osamu pulled back completely, and Rintarou practically sobbed at the loss of contact.

"Fuckin hell, Rin, were you about to cum from that?"

There was no verbal answer, but the way Rintarou pushed back, looking for any sort of friction, and then pressed against the counter for relief said enough. He was more than ready.

Osamu slapped his ass, greedy eyes roaming over the hiked up mini skirt.

"Stand up," he commanded alongside the smack while stepping back to release himself from the confines of his slacks. Rintarou was only to quick to obey, standing up and turning around to look at his husband with pure desperation in his dilated hues.

For a moment, Osamu couldn't help but indulge himself in the sight. He stroked himself slowly, admiring Rintarou's flushed cheeks, his perky nipples beneath the black mesh, and his pink cock that tinted the mini skirt sizably so.

He was one lucky man.

"On your knees." His hands entangled in dark hair as he was obeyed without hesitation once more. "I don't have lube, so get me as wet as you- _ngh_!"

Osamu choked on his words as his cock was enveloped in the heat of Rintarou's mouth without warning, only taking a few tries before his trained gag reflex allowed him to take Osamu in completely. The sight below him was unseemly, flushed pink lips wrapped around him so pretty.

"Yer such a little slut for me, baby," he purred out, before cursing under his breath at the moan that reverberated against his cock. If he wasn't careful, he could cum before the best part too.

He tugged at Rintarou's hair until he released him reluctantly with a pop, and stood up. Cornering him back against the counter, their mouths met in a heated kiss and Osamu made quick work of the mesh shirt, tossing it aside to be found later.

"Its no fair," Rintarou would complain breathlessly as he sat back on the counter and spread his legs like a whore for Osamu, "you're completely dressed, and all I've got on is this tiny skirt."

"I'm not strippin in my restaurant, Rin."

There were still some battles Rintarou couldn't win, but as of that moment, he wasn't pushing his luck.

Any complaints were quickly forgotten as Osamu lined himself up between Rintarou's legs, and the latter tensed in expectation.

"None o' that, sweetheart," came Osamu's breathy voice as he closed the distance between their lips to capture Rintarou in a mind numbing kiss, and when he felt those muscles relax, he pushed himself slowly inside him.

" _Osamu_."

" ** _Rin_**."

Osamu was the type to press in slow, to give his husband time to gain his bearings and adjust, but Rintarou had other ideas. He wrapped his strong legs, toned from years of professional volleyball, around Osamu's waist and pulled him flush against him in a moment that made them both cry out.

"Rintarou, ya have t'be careful, ya can't just-"

"Move, please, fuck," Rintarou met his gaze, eyes glassy with need, "'Samu, you feel so good inside of me." His next words seemed to shake as they fell from his tongue, his expression shattered with desire. _"Fuck me_."

The clearly more level headed one in the relationship wanted to continue to argue, but how could he when his head was spinning from how tight and hot Rintarou felt around him? It was all he could do to hold still at all, and there was no way he could deny himself that pleasure when Rintarou was begging for it.

There was no slow buildup to be had any longer. Osamu pulled back and then slammed himself completely back inside of Rintarou, who cried out in a mixture of pleasure edged with pain. He wouldn't be going to practice tomorrow.

Osamu didn't stop, he couldn't. The buildup had been agonizingly torturous for him, and now he couldn't deny himself this any longer. He slid in and out of Rintarou with force, watching the way he hiccupped and moaned and gasped his name with every repetitive motion.

They wouldn't last long, this was definitely their crescendo.

When Suna Rintarou arched his pretty head back in ecstasy, revealing his long stretch of neck that looked as if it was sculpted by the Greek gods, Osamu couldn't resist leaning forward to leave marks all across that marble skin. His hands rested beneath the small piece of fabric around Rintarou's hips, gripping them for leverage with every deep thrust.

The skirt would definitely be a new regular if Osamu had anything to say about it.

Osamu could hear himself moaning, but it felt otherworldly, he was far too focused on the loud noises his lover was making, and doing whatever he could to make them even louder. Releasing his grip on Rintarou's hip with his right hand, he danced it across his thigh and didn't hesitate to wrap it around his length.

Rintarou cried out, and Osamu thanked the heavens above that he'd sent his crew home early that night.

Osamu tilted back, grey eyes taking in the sight for all that it was worth. Rintarou had gone slack jawed, loud repetitive pleas of "yes" coupled with Osamu's name drowned out the low hum of the deep freezer. Rintarou had always been loud in bed, but this was definitely a new high for him. Maybe Osamu should have broken his rule before now.

Rintarou's eyes shot open, his fingers digging into the skin on the back of Osamu's neck as he rolled his hips in time to meet the others thrusts, and then Osamu felt it, watched as the muscled in Rintarou's abdomen tightened and felt it squeeze his cock, before he followed Rintarou's high in quick succession. His hips stuttered erratically as he came, face buried against Rintarou's neck once more.

The long few minutes that passed were full of heavy breaths, Rintarou having wrapped his arms beneath Osamu's to give him some support as he leant forward against Rintarou's chest. Eventually, Rintarou would hum and reality would settle on Osamu like a cold blanket.

"I won," he announced, and Osamu refused to lean back and face the smug look that he knew was there.

He lightly bit Rintarou's neck and, "Yer banned from my kitchen forever.'

"That's alright, I've had my fun! Besides," Rintarou shivered some, "It's too cold in here."

"Because we don't cook in fuckin mini skirts, Rin!"

"Maybe you should."

Osamu opted to ignore that, but he did end up breaking his other rule of not stripping in his kitchen when he stripped off his shirt to wrap it around his shivering husband,

after all, _some rules are made to be broken._

**Author's Note:**

> This is for a gift exchange, and I swear to god my mind could only work for smut. WHY?! I have never even wrote smut but here we are. I'm going to hell. Anyway, I'm dragging y'all with me so enjoy!


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